Trust

Many years ago, I was online friends with someone who wanted to be a writer and an editor. All of their blog posts (this was back in the LiveJournal days) were focused around this goal. This person worked really hard, practiced their craft, and wrote two novels. They also edited a ton of novels for small imprints, mostly digital stuff, and shared their journey online. Often, it was a struggle. It was hard work, hard to get work, and my friend worked really hard against obstacles to try and find their way.

I remember two things from this friendship (with regards to writing and publishing).

The first is, I think they really killed some of my drive to be a writer myself.

I was a huge writer in high school and into college (when this friendship was taking place). I wrote all the time, online and offline. And to watch this person, who was also a writer, struggle really hard, made me scared of the industry.

It also made me scared to see how they talked about other authors, both their editing clients and their compatriots, behind their backs. It wasn't just that people were being unkind to my friend. My friend had a lot of unkind things to say back. That's one of the reasons I quit the friendship, was it was hard to see that, even though I knew they were just writing in their private online venting space. Would people talk about me like that? Could I trust other writers? I quit the friendship because it was damaging to me to see that happening. I also felt like I had no input or anything to contribute to the conversation. I wasn't in the world, in the industry. My perspective didn't matter.

The other takeaway, the big one that I still think about to this day, was about a book they edited. I went to check it out on Amazon, to read the free preview and offer my thoughts. It was important to my friend to get good reviews, and they were proud of their author and of their work.

I'll never forget it. The book opened with a lady who worked in... a bookstore, or similar, and who had a piece of jewelry with her favorite Jane Austen quote engraved on it. It was so very meaningful to her. It was clearly set up that this (her love of books, Austen romances, etc) was going to be somehow central to her motivations and interactions with the sexy male lead.

The quote was when Darcy says "I love you, I love you, I love you".

I closed my browser window, then opened it again to make sure I had it right.

That quote is from the movie. That quote is NOWHERE in the novel. Insult to injury, it's the 2005 Keira Knightly version (it's good, but 1995 is better and takes fewer liberties with the text, end of).

I sent a message to my friend. I remember feeling queasy and weird writing that message. How was it possible that my friend didn't know this. Maybe I shouldn't make assumptions about who has read classic literature.... but it's Pride and Prejudice for crying out loud. And the book had already been published, so how could my critique make a difference... but I had to say it. The integrity of my friend's editing was at stake.

They knew, they wrote back. They knew it was wrong. They told the author she was wrong, but she wouldn't have it. And really, was that detail so important? The main part of the book -- the story with the mother, and the cancer, and the heartfelt and human stuff that happened, it was really good and moving, and it was still such a good book. I should read it anyway.

None of that stuff mattered though. Not to me. It didn't matter what my friend said in praise, I was never going to read the book, not coming off of that hideous error. For one, it meant that the character was a certified moron. For two, it meant that the author was a certified moron. Why would I want to waste my time reading about a fool, as written by a fool? All the good qualities of the book would remain undiscovered, because I couldn't trust the author to be any damn good after that gross error.

I've wondered, since then, if my friend did the right thing. Because, they knew the truth. They told her to fix it, and in the face of facts and evidence, she chose to leave it in as wrong. I'm sure my friend got shouted at. Threatened to be replaced. Told they were stupid and wrong. They probably just had to let that error slide in the name of getting the whole book out.

Should my friend have stuck to their guns? Because now their name is on this book as the editor, a book with a mistake. Part of their job was to catch things like that. So having your name on a book like that says that you can't do part of your job. Even if the plot is tight and the characters are fleshed out and real and the dialogue flows. You still messed up.

But part of it is making it in an industry. In small publishing, my friend was already busting their butt to succeed. If they told this author to take a hike, they could damage their reputation and their chances of future work.

This all made me question my friend, even though I knew they were probably stuck between a rock and a hard place. It made me question the publishing industry and the clique-like imprints even more.

Listen to your editors, kids.

A reader's trust must be kept.

Same for users, consumers of art, anything where it is imperative to the work that they user make it to the end. If you can't keep our trust, we'll quit before we see your point. And then, what's the point?

"Cool Website"

Since starting my website(s), I've gotten a lot of spam in the automatic comment box that I've got on my "contact" page. That's ok. At least I know it's working! And that I've got something about me that is triggering somebody's algorithm!

The most ambitious one, I have received twice. It informs me that I have a "cool website" that the user found "while surfing the net". I "showed up at the top of the search results" and it "looks like what [I'm] doing is pretty cool".

It then goes on to question whether my site is generating leads for my business, and then tries to sell me super gross info-capturing widgets so I can get users' info and "talk to that lead while they're literally looking over your site". In other words, I can send robot texts to them in order to capitalize on building a fake relationship, I could lose out! Time is money!

Aside from the obvious points here -- I'm not selling anything on my website, nobody surfs the net, and what even were the search terms that put me at the top of the results? -- I'm grossly offended by the idea of immediately having to capture leads and ram my "product" down anyone's throat.

This is fun because the module in my UX course right now is all about personal branding and aligning your online presence/portfolio to reflect your authentic self -- and also to attract and target the kind of work you want to be doing and the kind of employers you want to hire you. I literally have a worksheet in front of me on the table asking about passions and values and strengths, and perceptions and personal brand statements.

When I started this website, I actually bought two domains. This one, with my name in the URL, I decided would be for my "professional" self, for which I pay handsomely for a WYSIWYG layout editor and ridiculously easy and customizable site, ready for my resume and portfolio. The other one is for my "weird" and artistic stuff, the blog entries that are less poignant and more rambling. I bought a cheap Bluehost package, and I'm crying and banging my head against the wall over Wordpress, but I'm also writing about things I remember from my youth, and the weird inner corners of what I think about in quiet moments. It's not marketable, it's fairly pointless, but it's all me.

Now, though, I'm having a slight identity crisis. If my goal is to be authentic, then isn't it better to present me in all my truth? But some of that stuff might make people not want to hire me.I still struggle with what to put online, and what to keep offline, in terms of how I represent myself.

I was born in 1986. I made it to 13, 14 before we really had "online" as a daily part of life, and even then, you remember what it was like in 1999. It was largely text. All those BBS, writing threads, fan pages, IRC channels. We could write really authentically and freely. We had room for imagination and innovation.

Currently, I offer you nothing other than the chance to consume my writing (such as it is), see where I went to school, and peep my ever-evolving attempt to describe myself succinctly. My UX instructor is shaking his head in vast disappointment, folks.

How do you describe yourself online? Are you trying to form cohesion across all your platforms? Do you have a message? A brand? Does it feel real? Does it feel like work?

Potential

I had a day off, and it went like this:

I woke up. Made breakfast and fed the cats. I read from my book that I'm working on for a podcast group, and did Duolingo.

After that, I drove over to where I'm housesitting, and fed those cats and collected the mail. I ran an errand and came home.

I sewed for 3 hours, working on a project I'd never done before. I listened to podcasts. I made two pieces of clothing, took some photos, and bragged about it to all my friends. Later, I ate a lunch.

I went back to my housesitting house, and did a 20-minute workout in the home gym. Did some more reading, fed the cats, shoveled the walk, and came home.

At home I showered, had a snack. Did some more reading.

My friend commented that my day off sounded really busy. I texted him the following:

"In the back of my heart there's that fear.

That [feeling of] not living up to potential.

That [I] should be growing into something successful or better.

I dunno.

Whenever I have a day where I do what I like, and I just do simple stuff that makes me happy, I gotta swallow back that feeling at the end of the day"

I know that I'm not living up to my supposed potential. I know it. People have told me before. They tell me with their words, they tell me with their eyes. They tell me I'm not where I should be in my so-called career. They tell their own stories of where they were, when they were my age. My socio-economic status isn't good enough. My job isn't glamorous enough. I wonder if I'm an embarrassment to them. This failed person.

It's my fault too. I complain about what I do, but I don't change it. I like it enough to keep going.

I have heaps of creativity. I have talent. I also have anxiety. Not debilitatingly so, but my history has me looking for safety, for security. I've not got the entrepreneurial spirit to strike out into the unknown with just my pen by my side, my paintbrush in a holster, my knitting needles as my dowsing rods for good fortune. I crave stability. My current life affords me that. At cost.

I told this to a friend once, about being judged, about feeling worthless because of how my life is, the money I have (or not), the work I do. She looked at me, both angry and sad for me. Both because she understood putting that feeling on your own self, and because it's a terrible thing to do to another person.

My day off was so nice, and I still feel that pull in the back of my throat while I write this. I should have worked on some sample UX briefs, to get skills for a job I don't yet have. I should have done something on social media. I should work on my brain. I should work on my skills. I should practice my writing. I should monetize something. Sell myself somehow. Become better. Become famous. Become marketable. Become worth something.

I should work to be better.

Better what, exactly?

Was my day a waste, because at the end, I have nothing to "show" for it?

My heart just can't be at peace, it seems.

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January 15: I had a good day, alright?